


Front Seat

by beeswaxing



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:33:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeswaxing/pseuds/beeswaxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We’ve been together for a long time now and are used to each other. We have grown to naturally avoid acting or talking in a way that we know the other member doesn’t like. Our trust in each other is even beyond that of family relationships."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Front Seat

**Author's Note:**

> This was set a while back but I needed snippets of their lives… Goodbye U-Know Yunho, hello Jung Yunho.

The rest of the practice goes off without a hitch, but the atmosphere is tense after Changmin’s quiet disappointment with Yunho and their longtime stage director and friend, Sam-san. The environment is easygoing as always, the dancers and band members joking around in between taking their rehearsal seriously, but there is an obvious aura of unhappiness surrounding the younger half of Tohoshinki.

The silence in the van, while normal, this time feels uncomfortable to Yunho. While Sam-san had apologized to Changmin, he has not. It is not a purposeful oversight on his part, but rather his need to stay on track with the rehearsals and his constant battle to hide the pain his injury is giving him has caused it to slip his mind.

Not that it is any excuse of course, but Yunho truly did not mean to forget.

The most telling sign of Changmin’s displeasure is the fact that he had slammed the van door shut in Yunho’s face after he’d gotten in, and hopped into the front seat of the van. Even if Yunho had wanted to apologize, the opportunity was taken from him by his clearly still upset dongsaeng.

He had reached out to place his hand on Changmin’s shoulder in the short seconds when their driver slash manager was preoccupied with watching out for oncoming traffic as he eased onto the highway, but the younger man had pulled away immediately with a quiet, unhappy huff. The maknae hunches forward in his seat, trying to stay as inconspicuously out of reach, and the rest of the ride proceeds in awkward silence.

If their manager noticed anything, he did not comment.

The man knows better anyway.

Changmin can calm Yunho relatively easily, for no matter how angry the leader gets over anyone or anything, he will never keep his anger for very long in the face of his Changmin.

But Changmin will only be calmed when he is good and ready to be calmed, and the man can really hold a grudge.

The leader of Tohoshinki does not push it, leaving Changmin to his thoughts. While normally unwilling to let a matter such as this go without exchanging a few words to work it out, he knows better than to push the younger man before he is ready to speak. He knows Changmin needs to work things out in his own mind first before being confronted, and he is more than willing to give him the space necessary for this.

Well, that’s the altruistic reason.

The slightly more selfish reason is that Yunho is so exhausted he doesn’t think he is up for a fight with Changmin anyway. His ankle is paining him greatly, and all he wants to do is shower and go to sleep because that is pretty much the only part of his day that he does not feel the dull persistent throb of his injury. Each step today had been more torturous than usual, trying to dance without the ankle support for the first time, the insistent twinges had caused more than a couple of sharp intakes of breath during the rehearsal. He doubts anyone has noticed though, and for that he is grateful. He is frustrated enough as it is without being fussed over unnecessarily. As he has mentioned to his doctors, trainers, and the support staff when they had first started practice, he knows his own body.

“Move.”

Yunho is pulled from his reverie by a low growl, and he looks up. “What?”

“We’re here, and you’re practically sitting on my laptop. Did it look like a cushion to you? Move, please.”

The leader shifts quickly, but in his hurry, he steps down from the van too heavily on his injured foot, and he almost stumbles.

A hand reaches out to steady him, but before it can make contact, Yunho has moved out of reach, leaning against the van as he breathes through his mouth to get past the pain.

Changmin pulls back his hand, his mouth pressed into a thin line, expression conveying his anger and frustration with his leader.

Yunho sees none of this as he pushes away from the van without a backward glance, heading towards the lift lobby of the underground carpark.

—

The bedroom door is locked.

Yunho stares at it tiredly, his brain not quite grasping the fact that he has been locked out of the bedroom as he tries the doorknob once again.

No amount of twisting and rattling gains him entry into the room and the large welcoming bed. They gave up on two bedrooms a long time ago since they used to share a room anyway, and soon two beds became one because it was just easier. Nobody knows about Changmin’s nightmares. The stories about the younger man hitting him in his sleep hides a reality that is kept between the two of them.

Only their Japanese manager knows the truth which is why he fought to keep them together in Japan.

Changmin spent almost a year waking up fearful, always searching for Yunho, to the extent that it was just easier to comfort the maknae if he was just next to him. The nightmares made the maknae angry during his waking hours, unused to feeling so insecure that it seeps into his dreams, and he takes it out on Yunho.

Love and war.

It wasn’t just about what they spoke about.

He doesn’t get nightmares any more, but old habits die hard, and so the two beds stayed as one.

He chews on his bottom lip, stepping back, resting on his stronger foot as he contemplates the innocuous looking door keeping him from blissful sleep.

No, it isn’t the door keeping from sleep, but rather the storm cloud behind it.

Changmin’s irritated huffing and puffing as he tidied the messy apartment upon their return had been louder than necessary. Muttering about how it takes him twenty minutes to tidy a mess that takes Yunho only five minutes to create, the leader had left the grumpy young man to his tidying, choosing to avoid the nagging by taking an extra long shower. Out of the kindness of his heart, he’d opted to shower in the guest bathroom so that Changmin can have the luxury of their ensuite.

Half an hour later and he’s nice and clean, warm, more than ready for bed.

Only to find himself locked out.

The weariness is absolute in the leader though, and he decides that this is one fight he’s going to take a raincheck on.

He pivots slowly on his heel, heading towards the couch, where, to his rueful amusement, he finds a pillow and a voluminous comforter already waiting for him. The wide leather couch is covered in a bed sheet, looking extremely inviting to the tired man. He chuckles to himself, shaking his head, vowing to apologize to Changmin in the morning.

“If only he hadn’t sat in the front seat,” Yunho mutters tiredly to himself as he readies himself to spend the few hours they’re getting on the couch. “I could’ve apologized then,” he whispers to himself, pulling the covers over himself, letting out a heartfelt groan that his been threatening to escape his lips for hours during practice.

The sound is loud in the quiet room, and Yunho feels a lot better for it as he sinks into the reasonably comfortable couch.

“If only he hadn’t sat in the front seat…”

Yunho is asleep within five minutes.

—

Changmin paces the bedroom, muttering to himself, his hair an absolute riot.

_”Look at you! You’re a little ball of curls! I can’t let you go out like that!”_

He can practically hear his stylist noona flapping her hands agitatedly and chasing after him waving a hair brush as menacingly as the tiny woman can manage.

Thankfully, she’s in South Korea and he is in Japan.

And his hair really is a fucking riot.

Sticking out as if he’s stuck his finger in an electric socket, and carded to within an inch of his life, he is surprised there aren’t clumps of hair on the ground from all his tugging.

Yunho is going to make him bald.

One more thing to blame his stupid, insane, fool of a hyung.

Does he really think Changmin didn’t notice his discomfort?

Does he really think Changmin didn’t catch his pained gasp during the mad choreography they had gone through?

Does he actually think that Changmin, as the other fucking half of Tohoshinki, would let him, his seemingly irrational leader, speak for him about this?

Changmin stays silent because he trusts Yunho’s leadership.

But Changmin will speak when he believes Yunho is thinking about everyone but himself.

The man could do to be a little more selfish.

It wouldn’t hurt anyone.

But right now, it sure as hell is hurting Yunho.

What happened to not acting in a way that will hurt the other?

Changmin sure is hurting right now watching his hyung push himself to the limit and beyond as they ready themselves for what may possibly be their most personal tour yet.

“Well, making him sleep on the couch isn’t going to help him.” The maknae growls to himself as he heads towards the door. “Isn’t that hurting him?” he asks himself quietly as he opens the door with a wide flourish…

…Only to find the apartment steeped in darkness.

Blinking in confusion, he glances over at the alarm clock on his side of the bed and is startled to find that it is well past midnight. Considering the fact that they got back just after eleven, he must have been stewing for a good forty-five minutes after his cleaning frenzy.

His footsteps are sure in the darkness, and he immediately heads to the couch he’d prepared for his hyung.

The soft snores bring a helpless huff to the lips of the younger man as he drops to his knees by the large couch. The streetlights filter through the day curtains that Yunho hasn’t bothered drawing. If they had the lights on, anyone from the street or buildings further away with telephoto lens will have a front row view to the domestic life of Tohoshinki.

Biting back another huff, Changmin raises to his feet to draw the black out curtains over the flimsy day ones.

He has barely taken a step before a hand wraps around his wrist, startling a strangled gasp from him that lodges in his throat, turning into a cough he tries to mask.

“Don’t sit there.”

The voice is strong, yet there is something strange about it. Changmin frowns but he really isn’t about to do anything with those curtains still drawn. Maybe he’s paranoid, but it’s for good reason. He’s not about to allow what happened in Korea to happen in Japan too.

He is not going to be separated from his hyung again.

Not if he can help it.

He tugs his wrist away, but the hand tightens, stopping him short.

This time his huff is one of mild exasperation as he peers down in the dim light, but his body casting a shadow over Yunho’s face and he cannot see his features.

“Hyung?”

“Don’t sit there,” the voice wavers in strength, and there is uncertainty threaded into it.

Changmin’s brow knits as he drops down once again to his knees. He tries to pull his wrist away again, and this time the grip loosens, but he doesn’t have the heart to pull his wrist away, feeling the slackened fingers caressing his sensitive skin.

“Hyung?”

“Don’t sit there…”

“Where, hyung?” Changmin asks softly, raising his free hand to push away at the sweaty bangs covering Yunho’s forehead, his eyes smarting as his heart hurts. He finally figures out why the man sounds weird. Yunho is sleep talking, and he never ever does unless truly pushed beyond the limit of his endurance. Only utter exhaustion will cause the leader of Tohoshinki to talk in his sleep.

“Front seat… Sorry—I need to sorry…” Yunho mumbles, hand tightening once again as he sighs under the quiet ministrations of the man who has stood by him for over a decade.

The pang in Changmin’s heart grows, as does his resolution. Never without his phone being too far, he reluctantly pulls his hand away from soothing Yunho and digs into his back pocket. The light of his phone blinds him for a second, but he adjusts quickly, typing out a terse message to their manager.

**_He’s over tired. Morning off, afternoon too if you can manage it. Leave him to me._ **

No apologies, no excuses.

Changmin rarely steps in, content to allow Yunho to lead him in all matters that matter.

However to Yunho, his own health matters the least, and this is where the maknae will step in and fight.

His phone vibrates, the reply simple and to the point.

**_Done._ **

Changmin powers his phone off, not wanting to risk any last minute take backs, placing it under the couch and returning his hand to Yunho’s brow.

The man doesn’t move much, but his head tosses from side to side slowly, as if caught up in a dream that he wants to get out of. The words are like a soft litany, and each one intensifies the burn in the younger man’s eyes.

_“No…no front seat.”_

_“Sorry…so sorry…”_

_“With me…please…”_

Changmin cannot wait any longer. Gently extricating his wrist from the older man’s hold, he steps away.

Two steps is all he manages before Yunho bolts upright, almost stopping his own heart in the process as the voluminous comforter falls away exposing bare shoulders, which immediately sends Changmin practically running for the curtains.

Yanking the thick material across, he makes more noise than he means to, but the bubble of panic in the deepest pit of his belly is threatening to come to the surface. He scans the still and silent night beyond the windows before he pulls the other half of the curtains shut, viewing any and all light suspiciously.

“Changminnie?”

The inky darkness is thick, but the soft, sleep-heavy voice is like a light penetrating through the blackness, and Changmin finds his way unerringly towards it.

His palm finds smooth warm skin, and he pushes gently.

The body resists for a couple of seconds, before Yunho acquiesces with a muted sigh, sinking back against the couch, mumbling something against the sheets as he settles under Changmin’s soothing hand.

“What was that?” Changmin’s voice fits his surroundings, very low and hushed in the enveloping darkness, the hoarseness from his panic and worry for the other man making his voice more gravelly than usual, the question bordering on sensual.

“Changminnie…” comes the soft reply from a voice that is now content and no longer worried, the love in in evident, communicating everything in the whisper of a name.

The darkness is welcome, for Changmin would have needed to turn into a snarky little shit to hide the way his ears just blazed red, and the warmth that blooms across his skin from the tips of his toes to his hairline, showing all too clearly how much he understands.

Slim fingers wrap around his wrist once again, and this time he follows the tug, unable to resist the pull, knowing what is on the other end of the short rope.

Stretching out across the surprisingly comfortable leather couch, there is just enough space for both of them to lie on their backs, shoulder to shoulder.

That lasts all of five seconds though, before Changmin is once again up and fussing.

All from a pained gasp from Yunho not two seconds prior when he moves to give Changmin more space.

“Changminnie?”

“Close your eyes.”

Like an adorable child, Yunho immediately pulls the covers up over his head, just a second before Changmin snaps the side lamp on.

The light is blinding and it hurts his eyes, making them water, but he perseveres, moving as quickly as he can.

A cushion is stolen from the single seater, and the gorgeous singer uses it to prop his hyung’s injured foot up gently. Still wearing his socks, but apparently not much else, if his bare knee is anything to go by, Changmin makes a tsking sound as he fusses over the man who doesn’t move at all, the leader allowing the younger to manipulate his body anyway he wants.

The acute gentleness of Changmin’s movements do not go unnoticed by the older man who has spent most of that day in pain. His weariness goes bone deep and the movement to cover his face has taken the last of his fading reserve of energy, for even when he tries to assist Changmin in lifting his leg, he struggles and he knows the other man feels it if the calming but decisive hand on his knee is any indication, staying his pathetic attempt at trying to help.

“Do you want a drink before I turn the lights out?”

Yunho’s throat is parched but he cannot vocalise, his body taken over by a lassitude he can no longer fight off. The day has truly taken its toll on him, and he is afraid he has nothing left for the morning that is but a few scant hours away.

The loss of Changmin’s presence is immediate, but returns just as swiftly. He hears the lamp get switched off, the room plunging into darkness, but his energy level is probably sub-zero at that point, so drained from fighting the pain all day and sucked into the sleep vortex he has already tasted, that he cannot even bring himself to push the covers from his face. The whole thing about the will being there but the body is weak is barely even there for him. There is not enough will except to hope that his other half knows exactly what he needs.

Changmin sits next to the dancer’s supine body. He can feel the heat emanating from the man, and the cool bottle of water he is holding in his hand is a very sharp contrast.

Dropping the bottle onto the thick comforter, he reaches behind his head, grabbing the scruff of his shirt and pulling it off. The room is cool, and the touch of air against his sensitive skin hardens his nipples to sharp puckers, but he ignores it. He can hear Yunho breathing, and the way he is doing so, he knows the man isn’t asleep yet.

Sometimes he hates that he is so aware of the other man.

Especially on days like that day.

The hiss of breath Yunho emits every time he takes a step that pains him, brings a mirroring hiss of anger from the younger man, to the extent that Changmin had taken to wearing a mask to cover his anger and his own pain.

His eyes shoot sparks, but his hyung was always too caught up in practice or discussions with Sam-san to notice. The pace is punishing and absolutely unrelenting and no one notices anything out of the ordinary.

Nobody but Changmin.

“I should punish you, and let you sleep with thirst clawing at your throat.”

Yunho closes his eyes against the soft words, knowing there is more to come. Perhaps being mute can be useful at times, because what can he say that he should have said much earlier that afternoon? He knows Changmin wasn’t happy with him all day, but Yunho has a responsibility. He has to be responsible not only for himself but for Changmin too. He doesn’t want to let the younger man down. He has to work hard, and he will do anything to make sure nothing goes wrong.

Not for himself.

But for Changmin.

What he does want to say is to thank Changmin for at least waiting till they are alone. He hates public spectacles, and the way the younger man’s eyes were shooting daggers, it’s a wonder nothing was said beyond what had happened.

“I know you’re still awake.” Changmin’s sigh is loud, practically blowing away the darkness of the room, but not quite strong enough. “You have nothing to prove to me, hyung. Nothing. I am happy with how we are and where we are. If you need one more week to recover and then we have sixteen hour days to make up for your much needed rest, then so be it. I’m going to grow old so fast from worrying over you. Do you really want that, hyung?”

Yunho wills everything he has into lifting his hand, throat to parched to do more than croak, his hand finding a bare knee that he squeezes.

Changmin shakes his head, rubbing absentmindedly at the condensation on the bottle of water, ignoring the hand on his knee as he decides on what to do.

What happens next catches the leader utterly by surprise, and he helpfully parts his mouth in shock, cool liquid trickling slowly into his mouth and soothing his dry throat. His mind is a confused jumble of images.

\---

_Changmin complaining endlessly to anyone who cares, about Yunho having a bad habit of taking his water bottle rather than his own labelled “Y”._

_Changmin complaining in disgust about his lips touching their shared bottle and the maknae grumbling about finding a new one since Yunho has contaminated his._

_Changmin complaining to the stage hands about their oxygen bottles and how his has CHANGMIN in big letters on it and yet somehow Yunho almost always manages to take from his somehow._

\---

That jumble of images is starkly juxtaposed by the warm mouth pressed against his, completely at odds with ALL of his dongsaeng’s constant complaints.

Five times he does it.

And each time, cool sweet water fills his mouth, soothing his throat.

“Now can you sleep?” the question is so ridiculously grumpy, yet another contrast to the tender mercy he had just provided.

Yunho is warm.

The warmth starts in his heart and it expands outwards till his whole body is tingling from the warmth. He hugs the giant fluffy comforter to his chest, suddenly getting a measure of energy, the burst is especially evident by the beautiful smile he is wearing, hidden in the darkness of the room.

“I don’t like it when you sit in the front seat.”

Changmin merely huffs as he straightens out next to his hyung, lying facing the man rather than shoulder to shoulder the way he was briefly earlier.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology falls between them.

Acknowledged and accepted by the younger of the two.

Less than a minute of silence before Changmin grunts, scooting closer to get comfortable, attracted against his will to Yunho’s warmth, but just shy of actually touching his hyung.

“Are you wearing underwear?” he asks suspiciously. “Because if you’re not, I’m going back to the bedroom.”

“Would you really leave me out here?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Yunho chuckle is deep, quiet, and heartfelt.

—

Not fifteen minutes passes before Changmin is wrapped around his hyung, having miraculously fallen asleep before Yunho.

The leader blinks in the darkness for a wee while longer, slowly being lulled to sleep by the deep even breathing of the koala masquerading as his dongsaeng.

Nuzzling Changmin’s cheek, he knows they’re too close, but he cannot bear to change that fact.

Even the front seat of the van today was too far for him.

—

_When are you coming home?_

Yunho is home.

**Author's Note:**

> And the countdown begins… Day 1.


End file.
